It was in 1997 when we decided to drive down to see our friends in Munich.
The daughters ranged in age from 12 to 6 at that stage and our friends Miriam and Heinz, who lived right in the centre of Munich, also had two daughters, Anna and Sophie who were about 4 and 1.
We were never afraid of long car journeys so we packed us all into our grey Cortina and drove through England and France all the way there.

The Cortina turned out to be a bit of a goer, we were amazed at the speeds it picked up on the German Autobahns, probably just anxious not to let itself down in front of the Audis and BMWs.
We had, fortunately, taken out the AA Five Star insurance because we needed it as soon as we arrived at our friends house in the Kreuzstrasse, right in the pedestrianised centre of Munich.

The Dwyers with Anna on the Kreuzstrasse

It was while parked there that the Cortina decided to have a problem starting.
This was when the insurance proved invaluable ,because the German equivalent of AA fixed us up instantly, and free of charge, there and then.
The week in Munich was brilliant, we packed a trip to Garmish, climbed the Zugspitze (by cable car) and even found some time to enjoy the excellent beer in the beer gardens.

Drinking our Maas in Munich
Caitriona showing an early fondness for the large glass

On the trip back through France we had a truly European moment, and one that fits nicely, if accidently, under the title of this piece.
While we were having lunch in a café in Alsace, about 50 klms inside the French border, a German party with absolutely no French came in.
As the proprietor had no German, and he had seen that we (who he assumed to be German ) had French he asked me to translate the menu for them.
So happened a wonderful moment as an Irishman,far from home, translated for two European people about a half hours drive from their border!

We were stopped in a camp site close to our ferry in Dieppe when the Cortina did its thing again and refused to start. The local garage soon had us going on our way and this time they also explained where the problem lay.
The Cortina had an automatic choke which was getting jammed, this was flooding the engine and causing the difficulties with starting.
The French term for an automatic choke was a little Franglais; it was a Starter Automatique.
Now I had never heard of an automatic choke before so this term became firmly imbedded in the brain.
It is a funny thing about language but the original imprinting seems to stay with one for life.
As I first came across the Guinea Fowl while we were in France in the seventies they will always be Pintade first to me while I then search the mind for the English word.

But to get back to the title of this piece.
It wasn’t long of course, before the cars little problem came back to us at home in Ireland.
This time I was totally knowledgeable and informed our Waterford mechanic, to his utter bewilderment, that I knew exactly where the problem lay.
“It gets stuck,” I explained, “It’s the automatic Starter”

Afterword:
A propos of nothing in particular I want to congratulate myself on this, my 250th blog.
How time flies.